


glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

by bluemandycat



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: (kinda?), But mostly angst, Cheating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, am i the only one that thought about this ship, i saw coco twice and then died, the movie gets much sadder with this interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemandycat/pseuds/bluemandycat
Summary: The tangled-up love story of Ernesto, Imelda, and Hector.





	glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [炽热如在刀尖融化](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230297) by [Amerland115](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amerland115/pseuds/Amerland115)



> mmmm am i the only one that likes this ship in this fandom? regardless, enjoy.
> 
> title from meat loaf's "paradise by the dashboard light" which fits this thematically.

Hector is, oh, about eighteen when he first meets Ernesto. He’s playing guitar for tips in Mariachi Plaza, and really belting it out. His songs aren’t even that good, but he sings and dances like they are.

 

Even so, nobody really notices. This is par for the course in Mariachi Plaza, and one off-key singer isn’t going to set the town ablaze. Particularly when that off-key singer has a too-sharp nose and a lanky body. It’s sad, but ugly musicians don’t get attention. And Hector knows he’s ugly.

 

That’s why he’s surprised when Ernesto De La Cruz, town heartthrob, comes striding up to him. Forget about the town, Ernesto could set the world ablaze if he wanted to. He’s got a dashing sort of charm that makes boys and girls alike love him. Something that Hector will never have.

 

Ernesto smiles at him, and taps his foot to the beat of the song. When Ernesto hums along, the whole square turns to look.

 

When the song concludes, Ernesto pulls out a 20 peso coin from his pocket. He presses it into Hector’s hand, but does not let go. Hector’s hands are warm and callused–the hands of a guitar player–and they hold Hector’s hand tightly. Ernesto grins, and it looks sincere. Hector bites his lip.

 

“You’re wonderful. Come have a drink with me,” says Ernesto eagerly, and how can Hector say no?

 

In an alleyway, they drink from an old bottle and they fantasize. “Your songs,” says Ernesto. “They’re beautiful. What is your secret?”

 

“I write for my mama,” explains Hector. “She’s sick, but she loves my songs. I have to go out and sing to provide for her.”

 

Ernesto gives him a cocky grin. “With me on your side, your mama will live like a queen!”

 

They make an agreement, right then and there. Hector will write, and Ernesto will perform. They’ll split the spoils. They toast to it.

 

And the arrangement works, for years. They both play to their strengths, and make more money together than they would separately. They’re a good team, plain and simple.

 

And at some point, they become more than just a good team. Hector doesn’t know quite when it starts. Maybe it’s the surge of jealousy every time he sees Ernesto disappear with a pretty girl. Maybe it’s how, when he’s up late writing, Ernesto will bring him something to drink and an encouraging sentiment. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s human and likes men and Ernesto is the most attractive man on the planet. Hector doesn’t know how it happens, but he knows that Ernesto can never know.

 

But one day Ernesto stares into Hector’s eyes when he sings “Poco Loco.” And Hector can’t help but to stare back, unsure of what he’s seeing in those brown eyes.

 

When everyone leaves, Ernesto pushes Hector up against the wall in a dirty alley. “I know the way you look at me,” he says.

 

Hector swallows. “I’m sorry.” He averts his eyes.

 

“Don’t be,” says Ernesto, before smashing his mouth against Hector’s. Hector hesitates for only a moment before kissing back. They stay in that alleyway for a long time, all tongues and teeth and hands.

 

They’re close, after that, for years. Not so much in public, where it would hurt their careers, but in private they’re all over each other. Ernesto tells Hector that he’s talented, he’s artistic, he’s beautiful. Hector almost believes him.

 

And then, when Hector is twenty-three, he meets Imelda.

 

He meets her through the music. She comes to all of Ernesto’s shows, day after day. Hector knows her and her reputation, has heard the stories. How she drank the mayor under the table. How she beat up both the Lopez brothers and left them in the alleyway. How she’s a glacier of a woman, beautiful though she may be.

 

But the cold Imelda shows up to each and every one of the shows. Hector thinks she’s just another girl in love with Ernesto, until the day she comes marching up to him after the performance.

 

“Those songs,” she asks, “you wrote them?”

 

“Huh?” says Hector, caught off guard.

 

She rolls her eyes. “He didn’t write them,” she says. She points at Ernesto, surrounded by fans. “He doesn’t have emotions. Did you write them?”

 

“Si!” Hector stammers. “Did you like them?”

 

“They’re beautiful,” she says stonily, although her eyes glimmer.

 

Hector extends a hand. “I’m Hector.”

 

She places her hand in his. “Imelda.” Her hand is callused, just like Ernesto’s.

 

They court each other slowly, carefully. They spend time together, walking the streets of Santa Cecilia. They get to know each other, and Hector’s songs flourish with new passion.

 

Imelda is nothing like Ernesto. Where Ernesto is romantic and showers him with promises of fame to come, Imelda is down-to-earth. She pulls no punches and doesn’t shirk from responsibility. Oddly enough, Hector loves this. When she tells him his new song is lovely, he knows she really means it. Best of all, she has a beautiful singing voice. Maybe even more beautiful than Ernesto’s.

 

When they start getting serious, Hector is the one to break the news to Ernesto. Imelda offered, but Hector knows that it has to be him.

 

“You want to marry her?” Ernesto steps back.

 

“I love her, Ernesto,” Hector says patiently. “And she loves me.”

 

“I love you,” Ernesto says. “That should be enough.”

 

“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you glare at her,” says Hector. “The whole town loves you, Ernesto, but they don’t even know I exist. I need someone who loves me and my songs.”

 

“Mi amor, by the time I’m done, the whole world will love your songs,” promises Ernesto. He grabs Hector’s hand and presses it to his mouth.

 

Hector yanks it away. “We can be friends and partners, but nothing more.”

 

Ernesto’s eyes are sad. “If that is your wish.”

 

“It is,” says Hector, before leaving Ernesto to process the breakup.

 

Imelda and Hector get married the next fall. Ernesto is in attendance, and if he looks a bit stressed, well, it’s only because of all the fans.

 

Five years after Imelda and Hector get married, and four years after baby Coco is born, Ernesto starts to get restless. Performing at small concerts and in public squares isn’t profiting much anymore, and he begins pestering Hector to go on a tour.

 

“You have a little one to provide for now, Hector,” says Ernesto. “You don’t want to let her go hungry.”

 

Imelda feels differently. “Learn a trade, Hector,” she says, ever the pragmatist. “Stay with us. I cannot raise Coco without you.”

 

Ernesto says, “If you stay here, you’ll be ruining both of our lives.”

 

Imelda says, “If you leave, you’ll break Coco’s heart.”

 

And Hector has a choice. He loves his daughter, but he cannot see her go hungry, nor can he pick up a trade. Music is in his soul. He knows that he’ll succeed if he goes with Ernesto. So he does.

 

“If you leave, you’re dead to us,” threatens Imelda, but he knows she doesn’t mean it. He kisses his wife and daughter goodbye and goes to Ernesto.

 

They travel across Mexico for six months. Ernesto sings “Remember Me” in bars and convents and theaters. Hector writes in his red book.

 

After a successful concert in a bar, Ernesto and Hector get drunk together. They toast to old times, and when they stumble back to their room, it truly becomes like old times again. The kissing turns to lovemaking, and for the first time, Hector allows it to happen.

 

Post-coitus, Ernesto holds Hector to his chest, rubbing small circles into his lower back. Hector pretends to sleep. Ernesto whispers softly, “You’re mine now and forever, mi amor.” Hector pretends not to hear.

 

But even the lovemaking doesn’t help Hector’s homesickness, and so he packs up his bags and announces that he’s going home. Ernesto offers one last toast.

 

“I would move heaven and Earth for you,” he says, and Hector almost believes it, even as he’s dying.

 

He isn’t upset in death. It was an unfortunate accident, true, but it was still an accident. So he doesn’t mind when the newly-dead sing his songs, and talk excitedly about how big Ernesto is getting. Those songs were for Ernesto, after all. It’s okay if nobody talks about Hector.

 

Years and years later, Ernesto is crushed by a bell. The gates are crowded with fans awaiting Ernesto’s introduction to the land of the dead, but when the star arrives, Hector is the first one he greets. Ernesto sweeps Hector off of his feet, and they kiss for the first time in years.

 

Ernesto gets everything in death: his own castle, concerts and parties year round, more offerings than he knows what to do with. It’s a lot like it was in life, except Hector benefits from it. Ernesto provides him with the finest clothes, jewels, and instruments that there are. He gets a front row seat to all performances, public, private, and extra-private.

 

“I wish I could pay you back more, mi amor,” says Ernesto, before kissing Hector’s eye sockets. They can’t exactly make love anymore, what with being skeletons, but they manage to be intimate just the same.

 

After years and years of being together, Hector notices something odd: he doesn’t really do stuff anymore. There aren’t really songs to write anymore–Ernesto coasts by on fan-favorites. And he doesn’t get to go out and shop, or visit bars, or sing for himself anymore. When he tries to, Ernesto either tells him they have all they need in the castle, or insists on coming with him. And when Ernesto throws parties, he’s always the one left in the corner, while Ernesto is surrounded by fans. All that he really does anymore is wander around the giant palace.

 

So one day, Hector says fuck it and leaves for the marketplace, without telling Ernesto. He buys an elote and eats it without being disturbed, and it’s blissful. As he’s throwing the corncob and the stick in the trash, he sees a flash of purple, and follows it. He knows that woman.

 

“Imelda!” he calls.

 

She turns around. “Leave me alone, Hector!” Her hair has streaks of gray in it, but she’s still as beautiful as ever.

 

He stops. “What’s wrong?”

 

“You left me alone with a child to provide for,” she spits. “You left me with no money and no trade, and for what? So you could go be with _Ernesto De La Cruz_.”

 

“I died, Imelda,” pleads Hector. “I tried to come home to you.”

 

“Liar,” she says. “Word around here is that you’re De La Cruz’s pet.”

 

“That’s not true,” Hector says. “We live together, but I’m not his pet. He likes it when I sing to him. That’s all.”

 

“Then that’s even worse,” Imelda barks. “The Hector I knew wouldn’t perform like a trained monkey.”

 

“He loves me,” Hector says, but it sounds false.

 

“If he loves you so much, then why are you not revered by the world for being his lost love?” Imelda asks, cocking her head. When Hector doesn’t respond, she says, “Run back home to your gilded cage and ask your knight in shining armor about that.” And she pulls away from him and is lost in the crowd.

 

Later that night, Hector does bring it up. “Why did you not tell anyone about me, when you became famous?”

 

“Mi amor, it was not a good time,” says Ernesto calmly. “People would have reacted poorly if I had said that I loved men.”

 

“But you never even mentioned me!” says Hector indignantly. “Not one dedication, not one writing credit, not one acknowledgement. Nobody knows who I am.”

 

Ernesto sighs. “If there was even one inkling of me loving you, my career would have been over. You understand, right?” He touches Hector on the cheek.

 

And that’s the moment Hector knows that Ernesto will always love his career more than him. In the back of his mind, he’s always known that. Their entire friendship, nay, relationship, had been founded on Ernesto’s career. Ernesto had said that he loved him, but Ernesto was also the darling of the town. Was it only a ploy to get better songs? Hector couldn’t be sure. And he bites his cheek and says, “I understand.”

 

But that night, he packs a bag and leaves Ernesto’s castle. He sets out for the shanties of lost, forgotten souls. After all, he reasons, that’s what he is. Imelda would never love him again, and he could not allow Ernesto to love him. Better to be amongst his own kind.

 

And yet, years after he settled down into anonymity, he would still hum “Remember Me” to himself, and he would taste the irony thick on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> please don't boo me offstage, coco fans! i worked hard on this!
> 
> kudos/comments/messages to bluemandycat on tumblr/art??? very much appreciated!


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